A Place to Stay
by literal-llamas
Summary: AU in which Chris' horrible mother kicks him out, and the best place to stay until he can find his own place is Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

**CHRIS POV**

"Shit... Shit... SHIT!" I start to panic as the stir-fry goes up in flames. The flame raises high enough to burn the ceiling, and I see a huge black mark. Admittedly, there was already a black mark up there from the last time I tried cooking, but that one was not as noticeable. The smoke alarm's gone off and I'm stuck worrying what to do, as I know my mum has to be home soon. What was I thinking, trying to cook when I'm home alone?

I feel like a little kid, who, fazed by the independence of loneliness, decided to do some dumb thing that looks easy, but really isn't.

The flame is still there, but lower. I wonder whether the smartest thing to do is act on my first instinct and chuck a cup of water onto it, or look it up on my phone. _'What to do when you set food on- oh shit. Now my arm's burning.'_

Water will do.

'_Wait!' _ I stop myself while I'm filling it. _'Remember when the firefighters came to your school when you were 14 and they threw water on their fire and then it burst into flames? Was that a stir-fry?'_

I decide that I should probably ring my mum, but I hear the door open before I press the button. "Chris? What's that smell? Are you cooking AGAIN?" She runs into the kitchen, a scowl on her face. Her expression briefly resembles terror before turning into anger. _"Christopher Kendall what the bloody FUCK have you done now?" _she screeches, as near to my face as she can get. She's pretty small, and I'm about a foot taller than her, but she can still scare me, even after my growth spurt.

"Chris, the fucking tea towel!" She yells as its corner catches light and the flame gets bigger. "Why the fuck didn't you do something?" She smacks my arm harder than she intended to and runs out the room, almost tripping over her own foot. "Come on or I'll shut the fucking door on your dumb arse!" I dash out behind her and she slams the door shut.

She takes out her phone and dials 999. "Shut up while I'm talking." She snaps at me. I hear a woman on the other end and my mother calms down her voice and makes it slightly higher and sweeter, the way she does in public. She explains that there's a fire in the kitchen and makes sure they know that it was her son, not her, who caused it. I'm unsure whether I should slink onto the sofa in guilt or run out of the house in panic. For some reason, I'm not that worried. I've caused fires before. Not big ones. But it's happened.

"You clumsy little _twat_!" My mother yells as she slaps me across the face. I detect a hint of alcohol in her breath and realise she's probably a bit drunk again. That explains why she came home at 2am.

* * *

"Chris, you could have fucking _killed _us!" My mother tells me after the fire is out. _As if I don't know that, _I want to tell her, but I know she'll get mad at me for 'answering back' and ground me as if I'm still 12, which I'm not. I can vote, so why can't I answer back?

"What is that, the fourth cooking mishap? Chris, that's fucking pathetic. What's going to happen when you move out? When are you moving out?" she pauses for the shortest amount of time possible "Why don't you move out?" She says.

"Because I'm fucking skint." I mutter.

"Don't you swear under my roof!" She demands. I'd point out her hypocrisy, but she would only deny it.

"I don't have enough money to move out." I tell her calmly, in a careful way that cannot be taken wrongly.

"Of course you do. Your Dad..." Mum's voice falters. We try not to talk about my Dad, not since he passed away three years ago. Whenever he gets brought up, Mum goes out drinking and comes back a wreck. "Your Dad left you money for 'the future'. It's in your bank account. It's not loads though, don't get excited."

My mother has never let me use my bank account, saying I was too young to. Maybe she thought I'd spend all the money Dad left on expensive designer clothes or something.

"Obviously, I'll give you a little bit. I'm not going to kick you onto the fucking streets." She says, with a trace of disgust in her tone.

"So... So am I moving out?" I murmur.

"Yes. And don't even think of cooking a 'last supper' or shit like that."

I'm not sure whether she's trying to be hurtful or funny. Maybe a bit of both.

"I'm... Moving out... Now?" I ask. This is something that isn't usually decided within two minutes.

"Not now, no one's going to sell you a fucking home at this time of night, dumbass. Start looking tomorrow. Now get to fucking bed." I nod and go to my room.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHRIS POV**

The week's almost over, and I still haven't found anywhere to live. Mum told me to get out by the end of the week, and I'm not sure if she's aware of how unrealistic that is. But I'm not going to argue. In fact, I'd love to be out by the end of the week, especially since it's getting colder, and my mother is refusing to let me open the windows to release her tobacco fumes. To avoid this, I've been hiding in my room with my laptop, scurrying downstairs only to gather as much food as possible when she's in.

"Where the fuck are you going with all that food?" she retorts. I sigh as she makes me put most of it back. "When are you going?"

"I don't know." I tell her. She frowns and lights a cigarette. I can still taste the one she lit twenty minutes ago.

"Make sure it's soon." She grumbles. She's obviously wanted rid of me for a while. Anyone else would find it a bit harsh, but I'm unfazed. I'm used to my mother's blunt attitude. I find myself coughing and decide to get out the house for a bit.

"Where are you going?" My mother yells as I head out.

"House shopping!" I lie, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

"She's doing my head in, PJ." I sigh as I start to dig through my best friend's cupboards. "I have an actual headache."

"Not surprised," he says. "What are you looking for?"

"Dunno." I shrug. "I usually look in your cupboards. Isn't this where you keep your porn stash?"

"No!" He says quickly. I hear him mumble "I keep it under my bed," as he sips his drink. I roll my eyes and head to the fridge. I grab a can of cola and sit next to him on the sofa.

"How the hell am I supposed to find a house within two more days? The woman's mad."

PJ smiles at me. "Was that a hint?"

"What?"

"You want to stay here, don't you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Do you want to? Just while you find a place of your own. And don't bother bullshitting me by saying I don't have to."

"I don't bullshit you!" I object.

"I call bullshit." He laughs.

After a moment I sigh and look quizzically. "Are you sure?"

"You practically live here anyway." He says. He's probably right. I'm more comfortable here than I am at home, which probably isn't a good thing.

"You're sure?"

"Yup."

"Well... Okay then. We're having a big boy sleepover!" I giggle, jumping off the sofa.

"You should probably tell your mum."

"Does that mean I have to go back home?"

"Well, you're not wearing my underwear!"

"Why not?" I joke, and he hits me with a cushion.

"Get lost; I need to enjoy my last moments of peace." He smiles. I try to look offended as I walk past his window to the bus stop.

* * *

"Good news! You've got rid of me."

"About fucking time!" My mother said cackling. She sauntered out of the kitchen with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "I'll ring Nigel."

"Nigel?" I ask. "What kind of name's that?"

"What's fucking wrong with Nigel?"

"Who's Nigel?" I ask, raising my voice for the first time in months.

"Friend." My mother says.

"Friend." I repeat. "Why does your friend care if I'm living here or not? What don't I know?"

My mother sighs rather dramatically and tells me that Nigel's her boyfriend who she wanted to move in.

"So you wanted rid of me so he had room? I'm your son!" I pause for a second. "That's disgusting. I'm glad I'm going."

"Chris, you're an adult. You're supposed to fucking move out, and be fucking happy about it."

"Who the hell can move out within a week?"

"You did!"

"I'm only staying with PJ until I find somewhere!"

"PJ... Isn't that one your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" I yell. Mine and PJ's "relationship" is the sort of thing I love to joke about. But not with my mother. She doesn't get jokes, especially since she seems to think I'm gay anyway, and that gay is a terrible, terrible thing, even though she has no religion that says so. That's just my mother.

She rolls her eyes and takes a swig from her bottle before picking up her phone. I scowl and start to look for my suitcase. I can hear her unnaturally peppy voice and wonder if poor Nigel knows what he's getting himself into.

I walk into my bedroom, and suddenly realise that I'll never sleep in this room again. Nostalgic, I start to scan the room slowly. It's small, but somehow holds a lot of secrets.

I shift my wardrobe slightly and find that the cigarette I tried when I was 13 is still hidden there. Needless to say, I found it absolutely disgusting that so many people could inhale something so vile so many times a day. I'd panicked when I heard someone come home, so I'd put it out in my cup of orange juice (which I then poured out the window) and rolled the cigarette under the heaviest thing in my room.

I inspect the crack in my wall that I made when my parents were arguing especially loudly one night. They then argued over who made me do something as stupid as break my thumb; and the feud continued on the drive to the hospital.

Sometimes I wonder if they ever apologised.

Sometimes I wonder why they were together in the first place.

Sometimes I wonder if it's mum's fault that dad took drugs.

Sometimes I wonder if it's mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**PJ POV**

"So basically, you can sleep here, or here." I tell Chris, pointing to the opposite ends of the spare room.

"Oh my god, it's only 2 in the afternoon, I can't handle this sort of decision yet!" He groans. I realise that he's probably not joking.

"I'll decide then. I'll just get the spare mattress-"

"Why do you have a spare mattress?" Chris butts in.

"Do you have a problem with the one thing that will give you comfort in your sleep throughout your stay here?"

"Is that the mattress or you?"

I laugh and shake my head as I wander out of the room in search of the spare mattress that seems to faze Chris so much.

"That wasn't a no!" He yells, and I can almost hear him raise his eyebrows in that weird, sexual way he does. It's quite boring living alone sometimes and a madman like Chris will definitely end that. Well, as long as I don't force him awake before noon. Then he'll be grumpy all day.

I walk back into the room to find Chris staring at his open suitcase. "What is that, a portal to another dimension?"

He half smiles but still stares, entranced. "I dunno whether to unpack or not."

"Ah. To unpack or not to unpack, that is the question."

"Dead people always know exactly what's going on with the kids." He mutters.

I throw the mattress to the far end of the room. "Re-arrange to your heart's desire."

Still in obvious deep thought, he stares at the suitcase for another ten seconds, before getting up, kicking the mattress further into the corner, then returning to the suitcase.

"Need help?" I ask, coming beside him.

"Yes."

"Okay then. Why should you unpack?"

"Because I don't know how long I'm staying for."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't know how long I'm staying for."

He keeps his eyes fixed on the case before I sigh and pick it up.

"Peej..."

I tip it upside down, spilling its contents. "Boom. Unpacked. Problem solved."

He looks as though he's about to object, but decides otherwise and follows me downstairs.

* * *

"You wanker!" Chris screams at me as my turtle shell hits the back of his kart.

"Mind your language, Christopher," I tease, before adding "You foul-mouthed little shit."

"NOW I'M IN 7TH PLACE, FUCK YOU, PJ!" He yells.

"I'd say sorry but I just won."

"You..." Chris scowls before tackling me to the side of the sofa. He shoves a cushion over my mouth as I yell "Rape!" through my laughter.

"Peej you can't joke about that kind of thing you insensitive bastard!" He tells me in one breath, pressing my arm behind my back.

"If I say sorry will you get off?" I ask, still laughing.

"Maybe. But don't pretend you don't love this." He says with a smirk.

"Sorry. Now shift!" I sit up quickly, and he falls onto the floor. He weighs hardly anything, so it was immensely easy.

"I am feeble, master." He says with an odd accent, bowing his head with his hands pressed together.

"Are you going to play Mario Kart or not?" I ask.

"Not if you're going to play dirty." He says, waltzing into the kitchen.

"SNACKS ONLY!" I yell. "You're not cooking. I quite like my house."

"Shut up, PJ, I do what I want!" He yells back, emerging with a huge bag of cheese puffs and a shocked look on his face. "You didn't tell me you had these!"

"Because I knew you'd find them." I sigh as he rips the bag open and stuffs a handful into his mouth.

"Want one?"

"They're mine! You don't have to offer." I take a handful myself and flick the TV on.

"No!" Chris yells, standing up, looking outraged. "I need a blanket before I watch TV."

He starts to run out the room, then turns and comes back for the cheese puffs. He dashes out of the room stuffing them into his mouth and I can't help but laugh. He comes down a little later with a huge duvet and two pillows. He throws one at my head and sits down next to me, the cheese puffs in the middle of us. "Got any romant – uhm, I mean, manly, action films?"

"Of course," I say, reaching for the DVDs by the TV screen. "Wanna watch The Notebook – Uh, Avengers?"

"I got you The Notebook!"

"Does that mean we're watching it?"

"Yes."

I roll my eyes and reach for the disc. "Really?"

"_Yes, _now put it in!" Chris giggles. I sigh loudly and grudgingly put the film in the TV, with a tiny grin on my face.

I shake my head and sit on the sofa with him, digging into the cheese puffs. "Mental, you are."

"You love me, really." He says.

"Course."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHRIS POV**

I wake up in the middle of the night for whatever reason. I decide the reason is that I'm thirsty, and leave the bedroom to make my way downstairs. I pass PJ's open bedroom, and peek my head around to corner. I instantly notice his discomfort as he whimpers quietly.

"Peej?" I whisper. "You okay?"

He doesn't respond and I realise he's having a nightmare. I'm about to leave him when he cries out again, and I walk into his room further to see sweat on his forehead. He's shaking too, and his hands are clenched into fists. His face is scrunched up and although he probably isn't he looks like he's in pain. I can't bear to see him so frustrated. Unsure of what to do, I step closer to his and gently touch his hand, which looks like something will go horribly wrong if it's clenched any more.

"PJ?" My finger glides gently over his fist in an attempt to try to calm him. I dance my fingertips around his wrist and pull them back down to his knuckles. I keep doing that until his hand starts to relax slightly. His cries eventually stop, and he starts to look less panicked. I let go of him for a moment and his hand twitches. He starts to look pained again and I change my mind about leaving. I sit down on the floor next to his bed, still stroking his hand. I feel my own eyelids drooping and lay down on the carpet, still touching his fingers.

**PJ POV**

I wake up with a strangled noise coming from my mouth. I don't know why I feel so nervous, or why I'm sweating, or why there's nail marks in my palms. I don't know the time, but it's probably early in the morning as it's still dark. I turn to my side and see Chris lying on the floor, snoring.

"Chris?" I mumble. He doesn't stir. I forget whatever I meant to say after and fall back asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**PJ POV**

"So..." I say as I hand Chris a cup of tea. "You were kinda... On my floor last night. Care to explain?"

"Oh," Chris says quietly, turning a little bit pink and not looking me right in the eye. "You were having a nightmare or something and I guess I fell asleep on your floor."

"What?"

"Well, I went to check on you, and-" He stops himself there, continuing with "And I guess I fell asleep on your floor."

"Oh," I say, sipping my drink. "Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah..."

I suppose it makes sense that I had a nightmare; I woke up weirdly, like I tend to during bad dreams. But I've never woken up to find a friend on the floor. I wrack my brains trying to remember the dream. I remember seeing the face of a pirate, perhaps Captain Hook, and his blade was pressed to me. My neck. But why didn't I fight him off? Oh yes, I was tied down. And someone untied me. I couldn't see them, though. Maybe that was Chris, outside of my dream...

"You're being quiet." Chris says, hitting me with a cushion. "I'm awake, so you should be too."

"I am awake. I'm thinking. I'm very philosophical in the morning."

"If I'm awake, it's not really the morning." Chris grins. I look at my watch and inform him that it isn't midday yet.

"I got up early? It's obviously because I slept on the floor. What kind of man are you, making your guests sleep on the floor?"

"Do not question my masculinity!" I scowl, flexing my muscles.

"Oh, _please_." Chris teases. "I am the manliest of all."

"Course." I say, jabbing his arm.

"Ow!"

"Manly."

"Thanks, asshole."

"You're welcome." I grin. Chris rolls his eyes.

We sit quietly slurping our drinks before I mumble and say. "I need to go to the shops today. You coming?"

"What kind of shop?" Chris asks.

"Lingerie." I joke.

"Definitely coming!"

"We should get this, and this, and this, and this..." Chris drones, pointing to various items in the aisle before putting them in the trolley. I immediately put most of them back.

"Chris, you don't even like cauliflower." I tell him as he points to the vegetable in his hand. I remember him telling me how he thought they were snowed-on broccoli when he was younger.

"Yeah, you're right. Don't get that one."

I grab the cauliflower and place it in the trolley before zooming down the aisle, stopping myself just in time to avoid an elderly woman. I feel my cheeks burn and try to fight off a grin as I turn to Chris, who is facing away from me, but his bouncing shoulders and palm raised to his head tell me he's killing himself laughing. I walk on slowly to give him time to catch up. When he does, he calls me an idiot and laughs harder.

"Thanks mate." I pretend to be offended but can't help but let a smile creep onto my lips.

We get to the till where Chris hopelessly attempts to pack the bags. I snicker at his failure which associates with that of a seven year old. I show him how it's done; packing three bags in the time it takes him to open one.

I open the wallet to pay, and Chris asks if he should pay some, since he's staying at mine and he's going to use most of it. I nudge his arm and shake my head, paying full price before he can object. However, I instruct him to carry the heavier bags home. He rolls his eyes and picks two up.

"I would have paid, you know." Chris says on the walk home. "I'm trying to do one good thing every day. It won't last long, but may as well try."

"Not a bad idea," I nod. "I might try that."

"How about we see who can last the longest?" Chris beams, a gleam in his eye. "The first one to miss a day of not doing nice stuff for someone loses."

"And has to..?"

"And has to make a video naked."

"_What?_" I cry, laughing at the same time.

"The camera doesn't have to be _that_ far down." He says, smiling. "But they need to mention the fact that they're naked."

"Chris, is that even allowed?" I sigh.

"Hopefully!"

"Whatever. I'll just have to win then."

"Ha! Good luck!"

_**/You know what I like? Reviews :3 If you're enjoying this so far please let me know, it'll only take a minute :) I will be eternally grateful/**_


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